


Poisoned

by InkHeartAngel



Category: Schneewittchen | Snow White (Fairy Tale)
Genre: But it's there, But she's still pretty important overall, Emotional Abuse, OC is not the main character, fairytale retelling, not a lot, still figuring out how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 02:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18111239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkHeartAngel/pseuds/InkHeartAngel
Summary: Princess Snow White lost her mother when she was two and her father when she was fourteen. She spent her entire youth learning how to run a kingdom worn to exhaustion by a long and drawn-out war. Her little sister, Rosamund is strong and socially-connected, while Snow is withdrawn and almost always alone.Is it any wonder that the noblewoman who becomes her stepmother is so warm, so kind, that Snow falls right into her trap?Beaten down by years of emotional manipulation, estranged from the sister who doesn't understand how she can be so weak and so easy to use, how long before Snow reaches her breaking point? Will it even make a difference when she does?(Story's not as dark as the summary sounds)





	1. Prologue

On the third day of August, a war began, a baby was born, and a queen died.

The war was something everyone had seen coming. King Adrian of Dauntsey was not the firm leader his father had been. The neighboring kingdom of Crasmere saw this and began taking advantage of it. Eventually, one trade ship too many went missing in Crasmerian waters and Adrian was finally forced to retaliate. He’d held off as long as he could, knowing a war with Crasmere would also be a war with Crasmere’s longtime ally, Archmouth, but the people wanted the raids of their goods to stop and Adrian had to do what was best for his people.

All of the political issues could not have come to a head at a worse time. War was officially declared no more than five minutes before Adrian’s wife, Diana, gave birth to their second daughter.

It had been a very stressful pregnancy. Diana had suffered complications almost from the moment she went into labor. Adrian was unable to come to her side due to his political duties and she had instructed one of the maids to take charge of her two-year-old daughter, Snow White, so it was without any of her family by her side that she gave birth and passed away shortly thereafter. She survived just long enough to tell the midwife what she wished her daughter to be named.

When Adrian - somber after the declaration of war - made his way to his wife’s room, it was to find her lying peacefully on her bed and the midwife holding the crying newborn in her arms.

“Did her mother name her?” Adrian asked hoarsely, kneeling beside Diana.

The midwife nodded. “She said to call her Rosamund, Your Majesty. She didn't tell me why.”

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Because of the battle preparations, the queen’s funeral could not be what it should have been. There was as quiet a ceremony as Dauntsey could get away with a few weeks after her death and then the focus had shifted back to the oncoming war. 

The two princesses were put under the watch of the maids. Little Snow White, shifting uncomfortably in her black funeral attire, leaned over Rosamund’s crib. “Hi, Baby!” she said, a dimpled smile spreading across her face.

Rosamund reached up a pudgy hand to grasp at Snow’s black hair.

“Hey, no!” Snow giggled, pulling her head away. “That’s my hair!”

As she laughed and patted her sister’s hand, Adrian looked in through the door. He seemed to have gone grey overnight and the look on his face was wistful and sad, but his eyes lit up just slightly when they rested on his daughters.

“Those are your girls, Diana,” he whispered, so softly that it was almost inaudible even to him. “I’m going to fight this war and I’m going to win it so that this world will be safe for them. I’ll do it for you. Always for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 1, 2019 - Hello! So, if anyone is rereading this (in which case, thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me), you might have noticed just the slightest edit in this chapter. That is because I have decided I want to write more stories about these characters and my early plans required a little bit of a change. It's not plot-relevant for this story (or even really character relevant), so it doesn't matter all that much, but I thought I'd drop a note anyway.
> 
> \- InkHeartAngel


	2. Chapter 1

Snow White loved her sister. She really did. But sometimes, Rosamund was just...a bit of a handful.

“Rosamund!” Snow called in her best Mother voice (which, since she was only ten, even she had to admit wasn’t very good). “Do you have to go running by like that? You got mud all over my dress. Again.”

Slowly, Rosamund came back onto the path to face her sister. Her blonde hair was covered in dirt and her cheeks were bright pink, but even so, it was easy to see Adrian in her face. Snow didn’t have a mirror at that moment, but she still knew that she didn’t look like either of them, instead having dark hair and fair skin.

“Sorry, Snow,” Rosamund said. Almost immediately, however, she perked up. “Will you come play with me now?”

Normally, Rosamund’s idea of fun and Snow’s idea of fun did not match up at all. Rosamund was an outdoor adventure type, always wanting to sneak outside and look for witches or dwarves and constantly begging Chase Johannas, the court huntsman, to take her with him on his forest excursions or work with her on her quarterstaff training. Snow, on the other hand, was much happier inside reading or doing something quiet like sewing. Nonetheless, Rosamund looked so eager that Snow couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“Okay,” she relented, “but we can’t go outside the walls and we can’t play for too long. Father wants me to sit in on this meeting so I can start getting some idea what it’ll be like to be queen.”

All her life, Snow heard all around her the importance of knowing how to be queen. Right now, it was particularly important, as the war had been going for eight years with no sign of stopping and Adrian was only growing older. If Snow wasn’t ready to take the throne once Adrian could no longer rule, Dauntsey would be in deep, deep trouble.

Rosamund, of course, registered none of this and simply recognized that her big sister was willing to spend some time with her. Grinning with delight, she grabbed Snow’s hand and dragged her down the path.  
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Adrian had little time to spend with his daughters, as he was working on finding a way to end the war without further bloodshed, but he was still often seen play-fighting with Rosamund or reading a book to Snow. Some of the servants whispered that he was simply trying to see whatever he could of his beloved wife and no one criticized him for it.

As Snow was generally by herself, however, she had a lot of time to think over this. Perhaps it was simply that she was growing up and getting a better idea of what the world looked like but she was noticing some key differences between herself and her father and sister.

It was more than just the fact that she looked nothing like them; she felt that she had next to nothing in common with them either. True, Adrian took time to do the things she liked and she would participate in the things they liked, but someone was always not enjoying themselves. Rosamund was Adrian’s daughter through and through and, sometimes, Snow couldn’t help but wonder if she’d missed out on some important trait she was supposed to have.

Maybe, she thought, it was simply that she could almost remember her mother. Rosamund had only been a baby when she’d died and Adrian didn’t like to talk about her, but Snow had a couple flashes of memory when she focused hard enough: a cool hand, a soft voice, a laugh. She’d liked her mother’s laugh.

The more she considered it, the more convinced Snow became that she had been her mother’s daughter. And now Diana was gone.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Snow found herself wandering the castle halls alone. She’d located one portrait of her mother hanging in the ballroom and would sit in front of it and talk to it, imagining that her mother could hear her.

“I wish you were still here,” she said to it one rainy day. “Were you ever lonely? I hope you aren’t lonely now.”

“I’m sure she’s not,” said a voice from behind her.

Snow started and spun around, coming face to face with a dark-haired noblewoman. She was very tall and her green eyes were piercing.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Princess,” she said, taking a step backward. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s all right,” Snow assured her, feeling very embarrassed to have been caught talking to a painting. She got to her feet. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all.” The noblewoman walked a little closer to Snow. “I understand. You must miss your mother very much.”

Snow looked down and nodded.

“I know I can’t possibly understand,” the noblewoman continued, “but if you do feel the need to talk to someone other than a painting…”

“Who are you?” Snow asked, cocking her head to the side.

The noblewoman smiled indulgently. “I’m Lady Cecily, Princess. We met briefly at one of your father’s council meetings.”

Snow thought for a moment and then, suddenly, recognized the woman before her. “Oh, oh yes! I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right,” Lady Cecily said. “There are a lot of us in those meetings, aren’t there?” After a minute, she spoke again. “Princess, you really shouldn’t be in this drafty room all by yourself. Why don’t we got to the kitchen and get you something warm to drink? You must be freezing.”

“Okay,” said Snow. And, tentatively, she smiled.


	3. Chapter 2

Since that day, Snow never forgot Lady Cecily’s face again. The woman became a constant part of her life, inside the council room and out. While Adrian and Rosamund enjoyed each other’s company outside, Snow would sit in the library with Lady Cecily, discussing books or magic. Lady Cecily, as it turns out, was herself a white magician and, when Snow showed an interest, she began to show her how to recognize different magical powders and potions.

“I keep everything very organized,” she explained one day when Snow was eleven and Lady Cecily had taken her to her rooms to show the princess around her workshop. “We don’t want to grab the wrong spell by mistake.”

Lady Cecily began pointing out her various shelves. “The bottles with lead stoppers are antidotes - I have to use the safest containers I can find to make sure they don’t spill. The blue jars are healing potions and sleeping concoctions, the green are for nature-based magic, the purple are locator spells, and the red” - a look of pride came onto her face - “hold my transformations. The pride of my collection.” She ran a hand over the top row of red jars. “I have everything from mice to birds to bears.”

Snow furrowed her brow. “But, Lady Cecily, isn’t transforming a human evil magic?”

“Dark magic, yes,” answered the noblewoman. “But something you’ll learn as you grow older, Snow, is that magic, like most things in this world, is not inherently good or evil. That depends entirely on the intent of the user.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Snow eagerly drank in everything Lady Cecily offered her. She seemed to always take a great interest in everything Snow had to say and was more than willing to help her when she needed help or let her just sit nearby and watch her work on her magic. By the time Snow was almost fourteen, most of her time outside studies appropriate to a future queen was spent with Lady Cecily.

This did not pass King Adrian’s notice. While he was still deeply involved in the war, he always took time to notice his daughters and he recognized the connection between Snow and the beautiful noblewoman.

Several members of Adrian’s council had recently begun encouraging him to remarry, to choose a wife who would look after his daughters so he could focus his energy on the war and governing his kingdom. He’d been resistant to the idea, still hesitant to replace his beloved Diana and unwilling to entrust his girls to just anyone. But now, seeing Snow so happy with Lady Cecily, he paused.

Perhaps this was a woman who would see Snow and Rosamund as Snow and Rosamund and not simply “the princesses”. Clearly, his eldest was already very comfortable with her. Adrian had been very concerned about Snow’s loner habits and Lady Cecily had been the one to break them.

If he had to remarry, he supposed he could do worse than this woman. If nothing else, she obviously cared for Snow.


	4. Chapter 3

Lady Cecily eagerly accepted Adrian’s proposal and the council, pleased that he’d followed through with their suggestions, hastened to make the marriage official. A ceremony was thrown together, with local nobles to serve as witnesses, and Snow and Rosamund were put into very elaborate gowns and instructed to stand beside the altar and smile.

Rosamund tugged at the lacy sleeve of her pink dress. “Snow, I hate this dress.”

Snow, who was clothed in an identical dress in green, looked at her little sister with sympathy. “It won’t be a long ceremony, Rosamund. Just be patient.”

“I hate being patient,” Rosamund grumbled. “Anyway, I don’t know why he has to get married anyway.”

“Why?” Snow asked. “What’s wrong?”

Rosamund shrugged as well as she could in that constricting pink. “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling. Why does Father have to marry again? He already has heirs and we both know he doesn’t want to do it.”

“It doesn’t matter what Father wants,” Snow said, looking straight forward again. “Father has a duty to Dauntsey. The war has been going on for twelve years now and, even if it were over, Father isn’t getting any younger. If...God forbid...something were to happen to him, I’m not old enough to take the throne yet. Remarrying is the best option he has.”

“I know,” said Rosamund. “But I don’t have to like it.”

Snow twisted around to look over her shoulder at her sister. “Hey. I love you, Rosamund.”

Rosamund smiled. “Love you too, Snow.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The war ended only a month after the wedding. Twelve years of fighting finally lead to Archmouth deciding that the conflict between Dauntsey and Crasmere just wasn’t worth any more lives lost and so withdrew from the fighting. Without Archmouth’s support, Crasmere soon had no choice but to surrender. Dauntsey emerged victorious and, after strict lines were drawn in an attempt to prevent something like this from ever happening again, life began to return to some semblance of normal.

Snow would later suggest that it may actually have been the end of the war that caused King Adrian’s death. After losing Diana, he had thrown himself into battle as a sort of a coping strategy. Now that it was over, all the pain he’d been pushing aside came rushing back to him. He was dead a mere three weeks after the war’s conclusion.

The king was laid to rest beside his beloved queen. Since wartime was now over, there was a much greater turnout for his funeral than there had been for hers. Even some nobles from Archmouth made an appearance. Standing in front of them all, giving her father’s eulogy, Snow felt a pit in her stomach. 

Ever since Adrian’s passing, she had heard so many people say how sorry they were that the king was dead. Always the king. Never Adrian. Or your father.

Next to her, Rosamund stared blankly ahead of her. She was not crying but this was likely because she’d already cried herself out. Snow had spent several sleepless nights holding Rosamund and rocking her to sleep while her sister sobbed into her shoulder.

It seemed to Snow an eternity passed before she finished, but, at long last, she could step back and rejoin her family. 

“It’s not fair,” Rosamund whispered. “We just won the war. He’s been fighting it my whole life. It’s not fair.”

Biting her lip, Snow put her arm around her sister’s shoulders, holding her close. She could hear Cecily shifting behind them but the woman made no move toward either girl.

And, standing side by side, Snow and Rosamund watched as the men lowered their father into the ground.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient with this string of backstory chapters. I promise that this is the last one. There will be a lot more story - and a longer update - on Thursday.

King Adrian’s funeral had scarcely ended when a frightening change came over Cecily. No more was she the kind and supportive woman who had spent so much of Snow’s childhood with her. Cecily was harder, sharper, quicker to anger. The princesses learned to avoid her whenever they could but it seemed as though she was determined to seek them out.

It took Snow far longer than it should have to realize that the Cecily she knew was not the woman with whom she was now faced. Snow spent weeks making excuses for her stepmother (after all, her husband had just died and she was now faced with being queen regent for Snow for the next four years), but eventually, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. The old Cecily was gone. Maybe she’d never existed to begin with. Part of Snow couldn’t help but wonder if Cecily had pretended to like her just to give herself a connection with the king but she couldn’t bring herself to even think about that.

In fact, that was how Snow began to handle most things Cecily-related. She kept her head down, did what she was told, and basically stayed out of her stepmother’s way. She hated every minute of it but even for someone constantly lying to herself, she couldn’t pretend that Cecily didn’t scare her. Snow had figured out that Cecily wanted to control people, so as long as she thought Snow was under her thumb, she’d leave her alone.

Rosamund had no such qualms (but then, Snow acknowledged, she’d always been the braver of the two). Her little sister didn’t care one bit what Cecily wanted. In her eyes, as far as Snow could tell, Cecily had forced her way into their family and was now trying to act like she owned them and Rosamund refused to stand for it. She crossed Cecily at every turn and made no attempt to hide her contempt for the woman.

Cecily, in response to this, began bearing down on Rosamund. It was not difficult for her to find fault with the younger princess and, once she had, she berated her for it mercilessly. She began reinforcing a guard on the wall to keep Rosamund cooped up inside the castle. She refused to let Rosamund run around outside like she used to, insisting instead that she “start behaving like a princess should”. And she never hesitated to compare Rosamund to Snow and find the former lacking in some manner.

This was the hardest thing for Snow to ignore. Every bone in her body yearned to go and defend her little sister, to stand with her against this unfair onslaught. She and Rosamund were completely different people, yes, but this was her baby sister and she hated seeing what Cecily was doing to her.

And yet...Snow was still afraid. Afraid that getting involved would do Rosamund more harm than good and would make Snow a target for Cecily’s wrath as well. Afraid of what Cecily would do if Snow tried to stand up to her.

Snow hated herself for just standing by and letting Rosamund suffer. She couldn’t ignore the looks Rosamund kept sending her way, the ones that said: “Are you really just going to let this happen?!” And she knew that this didn’t bode well for her future as Dauntsey’s queen, since being a passive ruler was what got Adrian into a twelve-year-long war. But something about Cecily just quelled any fire Snow may have had inside her. So she stayed where she was and kept quiet.

So life continued in Dauntsey, with Rosamund and Cecily constantly at each other’s throats and Snow trying and failing to ignore it. And in that manner, three years went by.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your patience with the backstory.

The day of Snow’s seventeenth birthday was one of her most stressful in a long time. Cecily, possibly because she knew she’d be expected to surrender the throne to Snow in a year, was is a terrible mood and stormed around the castle looking for anyone on which to take her anger. More than once, Snow saw Cecily corner some poor servant and demand to know why such-and-such a thing wasn’t in just the right place and why so-and-so hadn’t responded to let her know if they’d be attending the party. Rosamund spent the whole day hiding away in her room, only coming out when forced to attend meals, and Snow couldn’t blame her. If Cecily hadn’t been making her stay on hand and at least look like she cared what her party ended up being, Snow would probably have done the same thing.

Finally, the guests arrived, Cecily stopped nagging, and the party began. Snow found herself standing awkwardly in the corner holding a glass of...something. Looking around, she could hardly recognize the ballroom, despite having watched the transformation take place. The floor was crowded with tables (which, in turn, held something that might have been food, but was so over-processed that Snow wasn’t sure if she’d still want to eat it). Every candle in the massive chandeliers had been lit, making the room look like it was actually on fire. All around Snow, strangers made polite conversation with each other and completely ignored the princess. There was a blank space on the wall where Diana’s portrait used to hang. Snow didn’t know what Cecily had done with it.

Snow considered the half-empty glass in her hand and decided she might as well refill it. Whatever she was drinking, it wasn’t all that bad. Slowly, carefully, she made her way across the room, weaving in between the chattering groups of nobles and attempting to locate the table with the drinks.

She blamed the dress for what happened next. Cecily had picked it out and it was a monstrosity of a thing, made of painfully-red silk and trailing on the floor on all sides. Snow had found it necessary to hold up the skirts annoyingly high just to walk and, with a glass in one hand, that was particularly difficult to do.

So it should really have come as no surprise to her that she tripped on the skirt and ended up emptying what was left of her drink all over the young man sitting just in front of her.

Snow picked herself up off the floor, convinced that her face was about the same color red as her dress. “Oh, no! I am so sorry!” She grabbed a cloth off the nearest table and offered it to him.

“It’s quite all right,” said the young man, taking the offered cloth and dabbing his trousers. “I never liked this outfit all that much anyway.” He set the soiled cloth aside and handed her the glass she’d dropped. “You’re Princess Snow White, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” Snow confirmed, brushing the dirt off the hem of her dress. 

The young man rose from his chair. To her surprise, he wasn’t very tall. He probably only stood about six inches above Snow herself. His short brown hair was neatly combed and he wore thick round spectacles.

“Well, happy birthday, then, Princess,” he said, dipping into a slight bow. “I am Prince Luke of Archmouth and it’s an honor to be here.”

Snow made the best attempt at a curtsy she could with those skirts, now remembering that Cecily had offhandedly mentioned that royals from Archmouth and Crasmere would be at the party to try to start moving past the admittedly tense relations. “Welcome to Dauntsey,” she said, “and please, call me Snow. Everyone does.”

“All right, then, Snow,” said Luke. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll admit, I haven’t had the opportunity to come to Dauntsey before now. The war, you know.”

Somewhat relieved that they were getting this topic out of the way early, Snow nodded. “Thank God it’s over,” she said, because that’s what she was supposed to say.

“Yes.” Luke hesitated. “And that reminds me: I never did get a chance to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your father.”

His choice of words was not lost on Snow. She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Thank you,” she said softly. “My father was a good man.”

Luke must have heard some hint of her throat tightening in her voice because he quickly changed the subject. “Well, Snow, as I seem to have cost you your drink, might I get you another?”

“It was my fault,” Snow said, “and I was on my way over there anyway.”

“In that case, do you mind if I join you?”

Snow considered. “Oh. Yes. That would be lovely.”

Luke offered her his arm. She took it and together, they tracked down the drink table and Snow refilled her glass. As she did so, Luke gave the food table next to them a questioning look. “Forgive me, but I don’t think I know what any of that is.”

Snow gave a very un-princess-like snort. “I didn’t pick the menu. I actually agree with you. Frankly, I’m not sure half of this is even food. Like that one.” She indicated a green dish towards the back of the table. “I think that’s some sort of vegetable, but I just don’t know.”

“I don’t know if that would qualify as a vegetable anymore.” Luke looked over the rest of the table. “The pork isn’t too bad.”

“Are you sure that’s pork?”

“Well, I’ve had some and I’m not dead yet, so I suppose it’s one of the better things on this table.”

“I guess it’ll have to do, then,” said Snow, setting aside her glass and putting a little bit of pork onto a plate. “And I promise,” she said in a hushed voice, looking around to ensure no one could hear her, “on my next birthday, I’ll make sure the food is actually edible.”

Luke dished up some meat for himself. “It’s rather loud in here. Would you like to move outside?”

“That sounds like a welcome respite,” said Snow, struggling to hold her food and drink and take care of her skirt. Luke held out a hand for the plate and glass and, gratefully, she passed them to him. The two left the ballroom and went out to the balcony overlooking Dauntsey.

Snow and Luke stayed outside long after the meat and drink were gone. After the first few minutes of initially uncomfortable politeness, they settled into very animated conversation. Snow learned that Luke was the second son of King Tobias of Archmouth, that he was only a year her senior, that he got along with his brother, Matthew, although they’d been raised very differently. In exchange, Snow told him about Rosamund, what her father had been like, and the hours she’d spent in the library. As it happened, they both liked the same sort of books and discussed them at great length before moving on to discuss the stars. Dauntsey and Archmouth had very different constellation stories and Snow and Luke were happily trading tales.

“Okay, what do you call that one?” Snow asked, pointing to the brightest star in the sky.

“That’s the Rain Star,” Luke said. “Back when my ancestors still believed in multiple gods, they had a legend that this star glows so brightly that, when the gods of air see it, they know to come and fulfill their task of making rain.”

“Well, you have a much more interesting story than we do.” Snow settled back in her chair. “We just call it the Eye of the Storm. It’s bright enough that sailors can generally see it even during bad weather and know which way to go.” She shook her head. “Your myths are so much more fun than ours.”

“But yours make more sense,” Luke countered. “They aren’t completely rooted in old beliefs.”

Snow was about to respond before a shout came from within the ballroom. Turning to look, she saw some sort of commotion going on in the middle of the floor. She couldn’t tell exactly what was happening, but she caught sight of Rosamund toward the center.

“What the - ” Snow was on her feet in an instant, rushing back inside with Luke hot on her heels.

Rosamund had apparently thrown herself at another visiting prince and successfully punched him right in the face before Snow reached her and dragged her off him. “Rosamund, stop it!” Snow hissed as her sister struggled against her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luke restraining the prince, who was staring down Rosamund with disdain.

“That girl is a menace!” he yelled.

“I am?!” Rosamund yelled back. “What about you, you pig-faced - ”

“Rosamund!” Snow poured every bit of authority she may ever have possessed into her voice. “That’s enough!”

Rosamund was quivering but she stopped struggling and Snow released her. The prince, still being held back by Luke, sneered at Rosamund. Now that Snow got a good look at him, she realized that he had to be the prince from Crasmere. Wonderful. Of all the people Rosamund could have chosen to pick a fight with, she chose the next king of the place they'd spent twelve years fighting. As far as Snow was concerned, this could not get any worse.

Or, perhaps it could, because right then, Cecily swooped into the scene, looking like a giant bat in her robes. “I am so sorry, Prince Edmond. The princess has a bit of a temper.” She turned on the sisters. “Snow White! Take your sister out of here!”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Snow said quickly and herded Rosamund from the room  
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Once they were out in the hall, Rosamund pulled herself free from Snow’s grip. “I can walk on my own, you know…”

“What was that?” Snow interjected. “What happened in there?”

Rosamund’s face was bright red with anger. “He started it.”

“All right, then what did he do?”

“He said…” Rosamund took a deep breath before continuing. “He said it was lucky for Dauntsey that you were born first, because if I was in charge, then it wouldn’t take more than three days for Crasmere to completely eradicate us.”

All of the tension left Snow and she longed to hug her sister but wasn’t sure if Rosamund would permit it. “Oh, Rosamund. You don’t take that sort of thing personally. He’s just still bitter because his kingdom lost the war and he has to go to some foreign princess’ birthday party. It’s not about you.”

“Well, it certainly feels like it is,” Rosamund snapped. “Cecily says it all the time and I don’t hear you speaking up then.”

They’d crossed that line. Snow felt her blood go cold in her veins. “Rosamund…”

“No, don’t you Rosamund me, Snow.” Rosamund moved closer, standing a good head taller than her older sister. “You’re going to be queen in a year. Maybe it’s time you tried actually standing for something.”

And, with that, Rosamund turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving Snow alone.


	7. Chapter 6

After Rosamund’s actions at the party, Snow fully expected Cecily to go off on a tangent and tear her little sister to pieces over the incident. But, even after all this time, Cecily still managed to surprise her.

She didn’t run hot because of what had happened; she ran cold. If someone so much as tried to speak to her unannounced, she would turn an icy stare on that poor unfortunate until they ran stammering back to where they came from. For some reason, this scared Snow even more than when Cecily was screaming, so it took everything she had to come to Cecily’s chambers when summoned a few days after her birthday.

Cecily had moved her belongings up to the king’s suite after the wedding. It felt wrong to Snow, seeing her parents’ room being turned into Cecily’s, but, of course, she dared not say anything.

Her stepmother was waiting in the tower room, seated in a massive armchair next to the large window. This was where Cecily was keeping all her magical supplies. There were more bottles than Snow remembered from her childhood, but then, Cecily had not allowed her to see her magic in years.

“Snow White.” Cecily didn’t turn away from the window.

Snow nodded her head. “Ma’am. You wanted to see me?”

“We need to talk.”

Snow’s heart was beating so loudly, she was convinced Cecily could hear it.

“About Rosamund,” Cecily continued.

Right. Snow had known this was coming ever since the party. Honestly, she was a little surprised it had taken Cecily so long to get around to it. “All right?” she asked hesitantly.

“That was quite a spectacle she put on at your party, wasn’t it.” Cecily got up and, without facing Snow, walked over to the full-length mirror hanging opposite the door. “Tell me, Snow White, what do you think of her behavior?”

Ah, Snow knew what this was now. Periodically, Cecily would “test” her to gage Snow’s reaction to various issues and make sure it aligned with her own. “I think it was out of line, Ma’am.”

“Good girl.” Now Cecily spun around to face Snow. Immediately, Snow wished she hadn’t. However intimidating Cecily was when she didn’t have Snow frozen in her gaze, it was nothing compared to when she did.

“Interestingly,” said Cecily, “this is not the first time Rosamund has been ‘out of line’. In fact, I do believe she has been ‘out of line’ ever since the king died. Wouldn’t you agree, Snow White?”

Snow got the distinct impression that she was digging herself into a hole and didn’t know how to stop. The lump in her throat prevented her from speaking, so she forced herself to nod.

This seemed to appease Cecily, at any rate. “So, Snow White, what do you think should be done about her?”

Snow felt like she’d had a stone wall dropped on her head. The world blurred out right before her eyes and a single second felt like an eternity. She knew exactly what Cecily was saying. She hadn’t exactly bothered to hide how tired she was of Rosamund. And Snow had seen what happened to people who frustrated Cecily.

The correct answer to that question was 'What do you think should be done, Ma’am?' But Snow couldn’t say it. For the first time since Cecily had become her stepmother, Snow was on the edge of demanding more details, demanding that Cecily tell her just what she wanted to do to Snow’s little sister.

But she couldn’t talk. As usual, Cecily had frozen her where she stood and, no matter how badly Snow wanted to fight it, she just couldn’t.

Rosamund’s voice echoed in her head. 'Maybe it’s time you tried actually standing for something.'

'I can’t, Rosamund,' Snow thought. 'I’m sorry. I can’t do it.'

But she also couldn’t just blindly let Cecily do whatever she wanted to Rosamund either.

And then Snow had a terrible idea. It was terrible and a long shot and it almost definitely wouldn’t work and she couldn’t believe she was even considering it. But she couldn’t just keep standing here and she couldn’t stand up to Cecily or give her what she wanted. 

Shaking so hard she could barely get a word out, Snow said, “Maybe...maybe you should...get rid of her.”

Cecily stopped. “Get rid of her?”

“You said it yourself, Ma’am.” Snow could feel the blood rushing in her ears. She longed to stop, to not have to say these horrible things about her beloved sister, but she was in too deep to quit now. “She just keeps messing us up and getting in the way. How long are we going to tolerate that?”

Fortunately, as Snow didn’t think she’d be able to continue with this type of lie much longer, Cecily was nodding along in agreement. “Actually...you’re right.” She glided towards Snow with the confidence of a predator with a lamed prey in her sights. “But, pray tell, how do you intend for me to ‘get rid’ of Rosamund. You should know I won’t be able to do it personally.”

'Not if you want to save face, you can’t.'

Snow took a deep breath. Time to see if this terrible, terrible idea could work. “What about Chase Johannes?”

“The Huntsman?” Cecily scoffed.

“Rosamund used to go out into the forest with him all the time,” Snow said. “If she heard she was allowed to go out again, she wouldn’t stop to think about it. You could tell the nobles that you decided she needed to stop being cooped up all the time so that what happened at my party won’t happen again. And then, when they’re out in the forest, have Johannes kill her and claim it was an accident. They can’t put any blame on you then. How would you know what would happen out there?”

Cecily was quiet. Quiet for far too long. Snow’s palms began to sweat. Had she misjudged how little Cecily cared to know about her subjects? Had she caught on to Snow’s plan?

Then her stepmother smiled. “Clever. That’s my clever girl.” She reached out and ruffled Snow’s hair. “Go back to your room, Snow White. I’ll take care of this...problem.”

Snow was so relieved to be going that it was all she could do to not run from the tower. She went straight back to her room and curled up on her bed, breathing as deeply as she could to stop her quivering. 

She had done it. She’d managed to lie to Cecily’s face. Now, if Johannes could just get Rosamund out of the castle, her little sister would be safe.

Unlike Cecily, Snow knew Chase Johannes. Specifically, she knew two key things about him: He liked Rosamund and he would never be able to bring himself to kill a child, especially one he adored as much as he did Snow’s sister. When Cecily called him and ordered him to take Rosamund outside and kill her, he would recognize the danger Rosamund was in and let her go instead, even see her to a safe place. Snow was certain of it. 

Still, Snow didn’t like leaving so much to chance. So much of this plan could easily go wrong since the only influence she could have was to plant the idea in Cecily’s mind. But it was all she could do to get Rosamund outside and away from Cecily. She couldn’t even talk to Johannes to let him know that she didn’t want Rosamund dead and needed him to get Rosamund to safety. She was certain Cecily would be watching her after that performance and she wasn’t about to risk her ruse being discovered, for her own sake as well as her sister’s.

Snow closed her eyes. Somehow, she didn’t think she’d be getting out of bed again today.


	8. Chapter 7

Just as she’d thought, Snow couldn’t bring herself to leave her room again until the next morning. She claimed an upset stomach when asked and let everyone assume that she’d come down with some twenty-four-hour illness. The servant who’d brought her warm milk and bathing water told her that, per Cecily’s suggestion, Rosamund had gone out to the forest with Chase Johannes right after dinner. Snow hadn’t been able to sleep that night.

Now, however, she knew she needed to start interacting again or Cecily would begin to get suspicious, so she forced herself to get up, get dressed, and make her way down to the great hall. If nothing else, she wanted to know if Johannes was back and if her plan had succeeded.

As it turned out, Snow didn’t have to wait long to get the answers she wanted. No sooner had she set foot at the bottom of the grand staircase than one of the maids came running up to her. “Princess Snow! Oh, Princess Snow!”

Snow stopped where she was. “What is it, Maggie?”

Maggie wrung her hands. Her eyes were full of tears. “It’s terrible, Princess Snow. It’s your sister, Princess Rosamund.”

“Yes?” Snow prompted. “What about Rosamund?”

Looking down at the floor, Maggie whispered, “She’s dead.”

Even though Snow had been waiting for that very response, she still felt a deep ache in her chest from merely thinking that it might be true. “What? Rosamund? Dead?” Her shock and horror were completely genuine.

“I’m so sorry, Princess Snow,” said Maggie, hesitantly putting a hand on Snow’s shoulder.

Snow felt her head spinning. In a daze, she sat down on the bottom step. “How…”

“In the forest,” Maggie answered. “Johannes said she was so excited to be outside again that she ran too far ahead of him and got right in the way of a pack of wolves. He tried to help her, Princess, but he couldn’t get to her in time.”

Although Snow continued to give the same outward appearance as before, she felt something unclench inside her. Rosamund knew better than to get separated from her companion while out in the wilderness and she definitely knew how to recognize when she was near wolves. Which meant Johannes was lying. Which meant Rosamund was still alive. But no one except Snow - and Johannes - would remember that detail about her sister, not when she hadn’t been allowed to leave the castle for three years. No one else would suspect anything, least of all Cecily. 

Snow’s plan had worked. Rosamund was safe. Now she just had to make sure that no one realized what she knew. Except for Snow and Johannes, the people of Dauntsey couldn’t know that Rosamund wasn’t dead. And not even Johannes could know that Snow had a hand in her survival. 

It was the only way Rosamund could stay free of Cecily’s influence now. And Snow owed her sister that much.  
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Snow could cry freely at Rosamund’s funeral. Cecily would expect her to keep up appearances, after all. The only time she had to pretend was when she was alone with her stepmother, which she was doing her best to avoid.

The coffin was a grand thing for having no body in it. Cecily had spared no expense, publicly declaring that she felt personally responsible for what had happened to Rosamund and the least she could do now was make sure the poor girl got a proper funeral. All of Dauntsey was there, as well as the two visiting princes from Snow’s birthday party, and Snow was struck yet again by how impersonal everyone was. Just as her father had simply been "the king", Rosamund was simply "the princess".

Keeping herself composed was nearly impossible for Snow. She just about came apart when, shortly after the empty coffin was lowered into the ground, she came face to face with Prince Luke. Thankfully, he didn’t try to say anything and simply offered her a hug, which she accepted.

During the entire funeral, Snow couldn’t keep her eyes off of Johannes. He stood right across from her and was staring at her with barely-disguised disgust. Snow looked away. 

Cecily had to have told him that Snow wanted Rosamund dead as well. She’d expected her to do so since Snow had suggested this plan and Cecily clearly believed she was on her side, but actually seeing someone think of her the way they thought of Cecily was completely different from just imagining it.

Johannes would have told Rosamund everything Cecily told him. He’d have considered it his duty to the princess he adored to make sure she knew everything he did about the people who were trying to kill her. So Rosamund most likely thought Snow wanted her dead as well.

No one realized that it was this more than anything else that was making Snow cry.

She couldn’t bear to think of it. Her little sister, out on her own, thinking Snow hated her enough to try to have her killed. The idea of Rosamund looking at her the way Johannes was now...Snow didn’t think she’d survive if that happened.

After the funeral was over, she immediately retreated to her room to clean her face and get herself under control. Cecily could send for her at any minute and she couldn’t let herself cry in front of her. 

Snow stared at her tearstained face in her own cracked little mirror. “She’s alive,” she whispered to herself. “She’s alive. She’s okay. That’s what matters.”

Yes, it was very likely she would never see her sister again. And even more likely that Rosamund would want nothing to do with her if she ever did see her again.

But if that was what it took to save Rosamund’s life, then it was a price that Snow would gladly pay.


	9. Chapter 8

With Rosamund gone, everything got worse.

Snow didn’t see much of Johannes, which was probably for the best because she couldn’t even look at him without remembering Rosamund and feeling ill. She also didn’t see much of Cecily, as her stepmother started spending all her time hidden away in her tower room doing Heaven-knows-what. The few times Snow did see her, Cecily was easier to enrage than ever and had started lashing out at Snow for things that the girl simply could not help, like walking into a room too quietly.

For her part, Snow was living in a constant state of fear and depression. Every day, she ghosted around the palace grounds, barely interacting with anyone and not even going anywhere near the library. Every night, she cried herself to sleep, silencing her sobs in her pillow. She was eating much less and didn’t speak much at all.

She heard the servants whispering about her sometimes, assuming her change in behavior was due to grief over losing Rosamund. They had no idea how accurate they really were.

Without Rosamund, the one bright spot left in Snow’s life was Prince Luke. He stayed in Dauntsey for months after Snow’s birthday party, telling his father and Cecily that his reason for doing so was to get to know Snow better. As an alliance would be ideal for both Dauntsey and Archmouth, no one tried to make him do otherwise.

So, whenever Snow felt like she was about to suffocate, she sought Luke out. He was always happy to see her and they’d wander around the courtyards together talking about whatever happened to come to mind. Luke was careful never to mention Rosamund, which Snow greatly appreciated because it meant she could at least pretend that nothing was wrong.

As time went on and Cecily got worse, Snow and Luke drew closer and closer together. Snow recognized that she was using him as a sort of a crutch but she needed the support more than anything else right now. She needed someone to lean on and, since she was now living without both her parents and her sister, she had no one else left.  
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The worst day came three months after Rosamund’s departure. 

Cecily was in a temper. Snow wasn’t exactly sure why, as she was having difficulty picking out words from her stepmother’s screams. Whatever it was, though, it had Cecily angry enough to be tearing through her tower room and leaving nothing but her precious magical concoctions intact. Snow, who was starting to wonder if she’d been summoned simply so Cecily could yell at her, kept her back pressed against the wall so she was as far away from the raging woman as she could get. In that moment, she was convinced that Cecily couldn’t be far away from tearing her apart.

“Well, why are you just standing there?!” Cecily finally turned on Snow. “Don’t you have anything to say?!”

Snow was petrified and barely managed to squeak, “No, Ma’am.”

“'No, Ma’am. No, Ma’am',” Cecily mocked. “You useless little brat!” She stepped forward, her high-heeled shoes scraping off the stone floor with every motion. “All the time and energy I’ve given you for all these years. All the support I showed you. Everything I gave you, everything I put up with from you. And all you can do is stand there and gape at me like a fish!”

Snow’s hand found the handle behind her. But before she could open the door and leave, Cecily snatched a pewter mug off the table and threw it at Snow’s head. Snow yelped and ducked and the dish slammed into the door just above her shoulder.

“Get out!” Cecily screamed. “Get OUT!” 

She grabbed something else from the table. Quickly, Snow covered her head and ran from the room.  
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Snow ran all the way down from the tower to the courtyard, where she sat down on a stone bench under a tall tree and tried to calm her ragged breathing. She focused on trying to even out her inhalations, mostly so she wouldn’t have to give any thought to what had happened upstairs. 

Cecily probably hadn’t even realized what she’d just done. Whenever Snow dared to think back on her happier years with that woman, she insisted to herself that she was just a child and couldn’t have known what Cecily was planning. Even if she’d heard this before Rosamund left, she wouldn’t have cared, would have written it off as just a mistake that needed to be righted and could be now that she was attentive enough to see through Cecily’s lies.

But now, with Rosamund out there thinking Snow hated her, being reminded of how easily Cecily had won her over and how obvious it should have been what her true intentions were only made Snow wonder if maybe she herself should be hated.

Snow felt tears stinging the back of her eyes yet again. She dropped her head into her hands.

A voice came from somewhere behind her. “Snow?” 

It was Luke.

The concern in his voice completely did Snow in and she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. 

Almost as soon as her crying began, Luke was sitting next to her and had put his arms around her. “Snow, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Rosamund’s alive,” Snow whispered before her brain could register what she was saying.

She felt Luke straighten up next to her. “Your sister? She’s alive?”

“Shhh!” Snow hissed desperately.

Luke quieted his tone. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“No. She thinks I wanted her dead. And I can’t tell her anything because I don’t know what Cecily will do and…”

He jumped in before she could get any further, (which was probably a good thing because she was close to hyperventilating). “Snow, Snow. Calm down. Start from the beginning.”

And so she did. Once she started talking, everything she’d been holding back came rushing out. Snow knew how big a risk she was running but it had been so long since she’d been able to talk to anyone about her situation. She told him how isolated she’d felt in her own family as a child and how meeting Cecily made her think that maybe she’d found someone like her. She told him about the wedding and how Cecily had changed after Adrian’s death and how she’d pretended to be who Cecily wanted her to be for her own protection. And then she told him about the mutual hatred between Rosamund and Cecily and how she had arranged for everyone to think Rosamund was dead in order to keep her safe from Cecily. She told him everything and, by the time she was done, she was crying freely again.

Luke held her until her tears had subsided again. Then he said. “All right. No one knows Rosamund is alive except us?”

“Us and Chase Johannes,” Snow clarified, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “And that’s too many. I probably shouldn’t have even told you…”

Taking her hand, Luke said, “Snow. I’m glad you told me. Because you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m going to help any way I can.”

“How can you help, Luke?” Snow asked, unwilling to let herself hope without reason.

“First of all,” said Luke, “I’m going to find Rosamund. That way, if nothing else, you can know she’s okay. And then you and I are going to work together to make a plan to stop Lady Cecily. And we will stop her, Snow. I’ve been listening to the people here and they’re on your side. Some of them suspect that your stepmother might have had a hand in what happened to Rosamund and they’re right on the edge of rebelling. You can use that, Snow. Your people love you.”

Snow felt a little smile creep onto her face. “Really?”

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re a beautiful, brave, smart young woman who’s going to make an incredible queen.”

Convinced that she was blushing, Snow said, “You’re not just being nice because I’ve been crying, right?”

“Of course not.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m on your side too. You need help, let me be it. I’ll be your Eye of the Storm.”

Something released within Snow’s heart at that, as if she’d gotten the chance to let out a breath she’d been holding for a long time. “Thank you. Thank you, Luke. It’s just...it’s lasted for so long and Rosamund’s not here, so I haven’t had anyone…” She trailed off.

Luke smiled at her. “Well, you’ve got someone now.”


	10. Chapter 9

Logically, Snow knew that not much had changed after she opened herself to Luke. Logically, Cecily still had control of Dauntsey and Rosamund was still out there thinking Snow wanted her dead and Snow herself still had no solid plan to change any of that.

But, somehow, none of that really mattered. Not anymore. Now, Snow had someone actively in her corner and, to her, that made all the difference in the world.

Whenever she had a spare moment and could get away from Cecily, Snow tracked Luke down and the two of them put their heads together to decide what their next move should be. Luke was preparing a lie for Cecily that his father had requested he return to Archmouth for a brief time due to a state matter so that no one would miss him while he tracked down Rosamund. Snow, meanwhile, had a tightrope to walk, as she needed to make sure that the rumors of Rosamund’s survival continued to circulate but didn’t reach Cecily’s ears.

It was a somewhat daunting task, but Snow leapt at it. It was interesting how easy it was becoming to lie to Cecily. Of course, that may have partially been because Cecily had not spoken to Snow much since the incident in the tower room.

“That’s one part I still don’t quite understand,” Luke said the day before he was to leave for his fake return home. “She’s been manipulating you since you were little, right? So, why turn on you all of a sudden?”

“I do have a theory,” Snow said hesitantly, “but I think we both know I’m hardly the best person in the world to read this woman.” When, instead of answering, Luke simply gestured for her to continue, she took a deep breath. “Cecily...she’s just the regent. But you wouldn’t know that from looking at her, would you?” Snow bit her lip. “Rosamund’s gone. As far as Cecily’s concerned, she’s dead. Which means, in her mind, the only thing between her and getting to keep the throne of Dauntsey...is me.”

Luke stopped mid-step. “Snow, do you think she’s going to try to hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” Snow admitted. “I think she’d probably like to,” - even Snow could hear her voice shaking slightly as she spoke - “but she has to know it wouldn’t be as simple as it was with Rosamund. I wouldn’t leave the castle much even if she let me, so she doesn’t have that excuse, and she thinks I agreed with her about Rosamund, so she’ll expect me to have my guard up. That’s probably why she lashed out like that. I’m frustrating her.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Luke said. “I don’t like leaving you here by yourself.”

“Go,” she insisted. “We have to know where Rosamund is. And I’ve survived her for three years. I’ll be all right.”

Luke sighed. “Okay.” He still didn’t sound convinced, however, and quickly added, “But be careful and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Snow was more on edge than ever before. She was almost afraid to leave her room every day and go where Cecily could more easily get to her but she knew she had to continue her ruse for as long as she could, so she did what she did best and pretended.

Still, even that nearly wasn’t enough when, the day after Luke left to track down Rosamund, Snow was summoned to Cecily’s rooms.

'Is this it?' she thought. 'Is she going to try to get rid of me now?'

She didn’t want to go, but before everything had gone wrong, she’d have jumped the moment she heard Cecily calling. She couldn’t stop now. Slowly, Snow made her way up to Cecily’s tower room.

Her stepmother was in another rage. The furniture was thrown all over the room, books had been torn off the shelves, and Cecily herself was standing before the floor-length mirror, quivering, an empty purple jar in her hand. 

It wasn’t long before Snow saw what had Cecily so angry and she felt her heart plummet into her shoes.

Reflected in the smudged glass, happy and radiant and very much alive, was Rosamund. She was outside a cottage in the woods, bringing an ax down on a half-split log. Her blonde hair was tucked under a kerchief and, although the mirror conducted no sound, she was clearly laughing.

Thankfully, since Snow would have been unable to hide the parade of emotions coursing through her, Cecily did not turn around when she started to speak. “Well, Snow White.” She was far calmer than Snow liked. “It appears that things have not worked out quite the way we wanted them to.”

Snow couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the form of her little sister in the mirror. Her mind was at war with itself, torn between relief at seeing for herself that Rosamund was all right and terror because now Cecily knew. 

“I suppose we’ll have to take care of Johannes now as well,” Cecily said. “Insubordination must never be tolerated.”

Now she turned to Snow and the princess quietly prayed that she’d managed to produce a neutral expression.

“But firstly, this girl is causing us trouble again.” Cecily walked over to her shelves of potions and selected a blue jar. “And I suppose I’ll have to deal with this myself, won’t I.”

Finally, Snow found her voice. “What...what are you going to do?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Cecily clucked her tongue. “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t recognize this one, Snow White.”

Snow stared at the jar in Cecily’s hand. It was one of the fanciest of her stepmother’s collection, light blue with a spiral neck and a silver emblem of a sun. Come to think of it, that emblem did look very familiar…

Her eyes widened. “Death Sleep.”

“Very good. The most potent sleeping spell I possess. It would take some powerful magic to wake her up from this.” Cecily waved her hand and an apple appeared. As she poured the contents of the jar over it, she added, “Magic we both know she doesn’t have.”

“No!” Snow cried out. 

At once, she wished she could take that word back. She hadn’t meant to, but her fear for her sister completely swept over her sense.

Cecily froze. “No?” In an instant, she was right in front of Snow, towering over her. “Did you just say no to me, Snow White?”

Snow had to focus to make words keep coming out of her mouth. “I said no. Don’t...do this.” It would do no good, of course, but she’d already completely screwed up and there was no getting out now.

Comprehension filled Cecily’s green eyes. “You.” She grabbed Snow’s shoulders, dragging her closer. “You did this. It wasn’t Johannes at all. It was you.”

Snow couldn’t remember being more afraid in her life. Not when her father died, not when Cecily first started to change, not even when she’d had to take a terrible risk to save Rosamund’s life. Cecily knew everything and she had Snow and Snow knew perfectly well what she was capable of.

She reacted on instinct and her instinct was to do whatever she had to to get away. Snow started to struggle and one of her flailing hands caught Cecily right on the temple.

Dazed, Cecily loosened her grip on Snow slightly. Snow didn’t hesitate for a second. Before Cecily could regain control of herself, Snow had pulled free and was halfway down the stairs away from the tower room.

“Guards!” she heard Cecily yell after her. “Guards! Stop her! Seize her!”

Snow heard armored feet hitting the stones behind her as she reached the bottom of the stairs and ran down the hall. She had no idea where she thought she was going. Her only thought was that she wouldn’t be able to do anything for Rosamund if Cecily caught her now. 

She’d never been much for physical activity, but now she flew along the corridors like she’d never thought she could. Snow reached the end of the hall, rounded the corner to the next set of stairs...and ran right into someone on the other side. 

Immediately, Snow was back on her feet and ready to run again. Then she got a good look at the person she’d crashed into.

“Luke!” she cried, choking on her relief on seeing the friendly face.

“Snow?” He was still in his traveling clothes. He must have only just gotten back. “What’s happening?”

But Snow didn’t have time to answer. She could hear the footsteps of her pursuers louder than ever. She took off down the stairs, grabbing Luke’s hand and pulling him along with her.

“Snow!” Luke hollered even as he ran alongside her.

“Cecily found out about Rosamund,” she panted. “And I slipped up and now she knows that I know and…”

“Snow, look out!” Luke pushed her out of the way and drew his sword just in time to block that of one of the guards, who’d finally caught up to them. Another guard tried attacking Luke from the side, but he twisted to block him as well. Soon, Luke was taking on four guards on his own, keeping himself between them and Snow.

“Get out of here, Snow!” he yelled, driving one of the guards back into another.

Snow got to her feet. “What?! No!”

“We’re running out of options!” Luke deflected a blow aimed at his shoulder. “Listen to me. Rosamund is at the edge of the forest, with a lot of dwarves. Take the main road in, turn left at the second fork, and stay on the path and you’ll get there. You have to reach her before your stepmother does!”

“She’ll know that you’re helping me!” Snow yelled back. “You can’t stay! You don’t know what she’ll do to you!”

“I’ll be all right,” Luke assured her as he caught a guard on the head with the hilt of his sword. “Go! I’ll meet you at the dwarves’ cottage! Go!”

She didn’t want to, but he was right. She wouldn’t be much use to him here and someone needed to make it to Rosamund. Snow turned and, struggling for breath, flew toward the main gate.

It was a while before she heard men in armor pursuing her again. They came from different directions now. Luke must not have caved yet. 

Snow could count what sounded like five sets of footsteps chasing her. They were coming from all sides, cutting her off so that she had nowhere to go but into the library, trying to trap her.

'Not a chance,' she thought. 'This is MY castle.'

Snow turned into the library, disappearing within the shelves. She flattened herself against a few rows of record books and stayed where she was, holding her breath.

Only seconds later, she heard the guards enter the library after her and muffled instructions to split up and track her down.

Snow needed to move. She edged her way along the shelf, ready to bolt, her every sense heightened. 

At the end of the row was a large window. Snow knew this spot well; it had been where she curled up to read when she was younger, her favorite corner. And now, it could very well be her only way out. She was only two stories up and she knew that there was always a stack of hay for the animals right under the window. If she could get through the window, she’d have a head start on the guards, whose armor would slow them down.

She just needed to get through the window.

Next to Snow was one of the thickest record books on the shelves. She could barely lift the thing, but she was certain it would do what she needed it to do.

Clutching the book, Snow crept over to the window, checking for guards. When none appeared, she gave the window a long look. She was going to have to move quickly because there was no way she’d be able to do this quietly. 

Snow took a deep breath, lifted the record book, and threw it with all her might at the window.

The book smashed through the glass, leaving a sizable hole in its wake. The crash was deafening and, almost immediately, Snow heard the guards heading in her direction. Before they could reach her, Snow gripped the windowsill and launched herself through the hole she’d made.

There almost wasn’t enough room. Snow felt the broken glass slice into her arms as she passed. But she made it and, the next thing she knew, she was on top of the haystack. She rolled down to the ground, straw and dirt collecting on her face and clothes and in her hair, and then she jumped up and ran away from the castle while the guards struggled ineffectually to follow her.

Now Snow was facing a whole new problem. She was exhausted and knew there was no way she’d get to Rosamund before Cecily did if she traveled on foot. Thinking quickly, she veered off toward the stables, mentally reassuring herself that it wasn’t technically horse-stealing since her family owned the horses.

For the first time ever, Snow was grateful that she’d learned horseback riding when she was a child. As she undid the latch on one of the stalls and began saddling the horse to ride, all her old memories of her father teaching her were foremost in her mind and prevented her from stumbling up too much while she worked. 

Just as she’d finished preparations and was getting ready to climb onto the horse, she felt a rough hand catch her arm. 

Snow gasped and turned about to face the owner of the hand. The dark, angry face of Chase Johannes looked back at her.

“Johannes,” she whispered. Then she did her best to actually sound like a future queen and not like she was scared out of her mind. “Johannes, let go of me.”

He didn’t move. “Begging your pardon, Princess,” he said, his thick accent almost caressing the words, “but no.”

Snow tensed up. She wanted to run again but, even if she could break free of Johannes, she couldn’t run very far. She barely managed a “What?”

“I know what you’re up to,” said Johannes. “I know you and your stepmother wanted me to kill Princess Rosamund and I know you know I didn’t do it. And I’m not going to give you another chance to hurt her.”

Snow’s mind ran through the possible responses she could give and she settled on the truth. Time to come clean.

“Johannes,” she said as calmly as she could, “I don’t know what Cecily told you, but I did not want you to kill my sister. I love my sister. I knew Cecily was on the verge of hurting her, so I suggested she have you take care of her because I knew you wouldn’t do it. I was counting on you not killing her and I’m glad you didn’t. And I wish I could explain better but if Cecily gets to her first, she’s going to do something horrible to her and I won’t be able to stop it. I really don’t have time, so please.” She looked up at him, letting her mask drop completely. “Let me go.”

Time almost seemed to stop. Snow hardly dared to breathe. If he didn’t believe her, there was no way she was going to get to Rosamund in time.

Then Johannes let go of her arm and stepped back. “I don’t know where she is,” he said as Snow hastily swung herself up onto the horse.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I do.”

She made to leave but then stopped and turned back to him. “And Johannes, you need to get out too. Cecily knows you lied to her about Rosamund and she’s really angry.”

Johannes just nodded. 

Snow gripped the reins and rode the horse out of the stables, through the outer wall, and toward the edge of the forest. She rode fast and she rode hard, doing her best to remember Luke’s instructions. Take the main road, go left at the second fork…

Just as she reached the forest, Snow heard a whoosh over her head. Looking up, she saw a black cloud-like thing race by through the air and circle back to the tower at the top of the castle. 

“Cecily,” Snow whispered to herself. “Oh no…”


	11. Chapter 10

Digging her heels into the horse’s flanks, Snow tore through the forest. Branches scraped across her unprotected skin and her bloody arms were throbbing but she refused to slow down. Cecily may have already reached Rosamund but Snow needed to get to her. Maybe if she could, somehow, she could do something about this mess.

She was already convinced that she was just fooling herself but on she went anyway. There was nothing else she could do.

Snow drove the horse on until she caught sight of a house before her. Even from a distance, she could tell it was the same cottage she’d seen in Cecily’s mirror. Her stomach churned and, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. 

The door was standing open.

She pulled on the reins to bring the horse to a halt and jumped off. Without hesitation, she ran into the house and nearly tripped over something in the doorway.

It was Rosamund. Eyes closed. Not moving.

Snow immediately went down on her knees and checked her sister’s pulse. Her heartbeat was steady. So she wasn’t dead, then. Just under Cecily’s Death Sleep.

'And how is that much better?'

Snow whimpered quietly and bit her lower lip. “Oh, Rosamund,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I should have found a way to stop this…”

She could feel panic beginning to set in. 'Stop it, Snow,' she told herself firmly. 'Feeling sorry for yourself is not going to solve anything. Think. She’s not dead so there has to be some solution.'

And then a memory entered Snow’s mind. A memory of herself, age fourteen, slipping into Cecily’s workroom, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be there alone but trying not to worry because they would be family soon, looking at an open page in a book...

Snow closed her eyes and furrowed her brow, trying to remember.

“And what do you think you’re doing here?”

Snow’s eyes flew open and she saw seven little men standing before her. They all wore beards of different colors and carried pickaxes. They had to be the dwarves Luke had mentioned. And they were all glaring at her.

Of course, she began to stammer. “I-I’m sorry, I -”

But then they caught sight of Rosamund on the floor.

“What did you do to her?!” demanded a dwarf near the front with a long brown beard.

“I didn’t do anything!” Snow protested. “I was trying to stop this!”

“Sure you were,” said another dwarf, whose beard was a darker brown and who seemed to have a permanent scowl. “We know who you are, Princess Snow White. We know what you and your stepmother tried.”

“Yrre,” a third dwarf interrupted, this one with a greying black beard and apparent congestion. “No need to get confrontational.”

“Oh, stow it, Eisig,” Yrre snapped.

“Enough!” the first dwarf said. “Arguing won’t help anyone.” He turned back to Snow, who felt very much as if she were about to start crying again.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” she said. “I never wanted her to get hurt. I was trying to fix this.”

“And how could you possibly help now?” said the dwarf.

“I think there might be something...but I’m having trouble coming up with it. I’m trying to remember…” She put her head down and did her best to focus. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yrre try to step forward but the first dwarf put an arm out to stop him.

And then the memory Snow had been chasing came in full force into her mind. Her head snapped up. “I’ve got it! I think I know how to help her,” she told the dwarves.

“How?” the first dwarf asked.

“This spell,” Snow explained. “Cecily taught me about it a few years ago. It’s called Death Sleep...and there’s an antidote.”

“A spell called Death Sleep has an antidote?” the dwarf named Eisig cautiously asked.

“Most spells do,” said Snow. “And this one isn’t the most complicated in the world; it’s just time-consuming. I don’t want to guarantee anything because I’m not the most skilled person when it comes to magic, but... I might be able to make it.”

“Really?” said the first dwarf.

“Maybe,” she confirmed. “I’m not promising. But she’s my baby sister and...I have to try.”

“That’s a lot to risk on a maybe,” Yrre grumbled. “And how do we even know we can trust her?”

“Would she have told us there was an antidote if we couldn’t?” said a dwarf with the shortest beard and a dazed expression.

“Maybe there’s not. Maybe she’s just trying to finish the job,” said Yrre.

“Well, Aeson knows magic,” countered the dazed dwarf. “He could work with her, make sure she’s not trying anything.”

All the dwarves turned to the first one with the brown beard. “Well, Aeson?” said the red-bearded dwarf.

Aeson knelt down on Rosamund’s other side and looked at Snow. “What do we need for this antidote?” 

Snow barely repressed a sigh of relief. “Um...feverfew. The roots, not the flowers. And indigo. And the cleanest water you can possibly get.”

Aeson turned to a dwarf with a curly red beard. “Lajjit, this is your territory. Go get us what we need.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
As it turned out, the dwarves lived in a very well-placed area when it came to magical antidotes. Lajjit was able to locate all the plants they needed. A white-bearded dwarf named Dott brought them clean water and Snow and Aeson toiled over the Death Sleep antidote. They worked for over an hour, with Aeson testing Snow’s recollections against his magical know-how. Eventually, they did complete the antidote and boiled it and, while it cooled, Aeson cleaned and bandaged Snow’s arms.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning back in a chair.

“How exactly did this happen?” said Aeson.

“I jumped through a broken window. Landed in a haystack. Not important. And I meant...thank you for trusting me. For helping me save my sister.”

Aeson sat down in a chair across from her. “Well, Rosamund has grown on us in the last few months. And nothing we did just now would make a poison, so it doesn’t seem like you’re trying to hurt her.”

“Never,” Snow said. “It was so good of you to take her in and look out for her.”

“We could have done a better job than this,” Aeson muttered.

“How did it happen?”

“There’s this woman who comes by and delivers our food every week or so. Rosamund answered the door this time. Must have been something in the food.”

Snow thought back to Cecily’s apple. “Well, you kept her safe this long,” she said, wanting to console the dwarf. “That’s more than I could do.”

“Like I said, she’s grown on us. She’s a good kid.”

“The best.” Snow looked over at her sister, fast asleep on a bed they’d pulled into the kitchen. “I’ve missed her so much.”

“She’ll be awake soon,” Aeson assured her.

“If I got the antidote right. And even if I did, she probably won’t want to see me.” Snow looked away. “I don’t blame her.” 

Before Aeson could say anything, Snow gestured toward the pot of antidote. “I think that’s ready.”

Aeson got up from his chair and examined the concoction. Removing a ladle from the shelf, he spooned some of it into a cup and handed it to Snow. “Here. You do it.”

Snow took the cup and walked over to Rosamund. “Hi, you,” she said, sitting down next to her. “It’s time to wake up now, all right?”

She slid her arm under Rosamund’s shoulders, lifting her torso up into the air. Aeson supported her head while Snow slowly poured the liquid down her sister’s throat. 

There was an agonizing moment of nothing. Snow’s heart pounded in her ears.

Then Rosamund coughed, spluttered, and opened her eyes.

“Rosamund?” Snow could hardly hear her own voice.

Rosamund blinked. “Snow?” she said, squinting.

Snow didn’t answer. She just threw her arms around her sister and held her close. Hot tears of relief spilled out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay.

“Snow,” Rosamund insisted. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

Reluctantly, Snow let go of Rosamund and sat back.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault. Johannes, the Death Sleep, everything.”

Rosamund opened her mouth but Snow held up a hand. “Please, I...I need you know this.”

Her sister nodded, eyes still clouded with confusion. Snow took a deep breath. “I was afraid. That’s...that’s why I never stood up for anything, never stood up for you. Cecily knew me so well, she knew how to keep me afraid. I know that’s no excuse for being so...compliant, but…” 

Snow shook her head. “She was furious after my party. She wanted to hurt you, Rosamund, and I couldn’t stand up to her. I wanted to. I really did. But… all I could do was make sure she sent you off with Johannes. It was a risk but I knew I could trust him to take care of you, to be sure you got away safely. I should have done more. I know I should have done more. If I’d done more, none of this would have happened. If I’d spoken up for you three years ago, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten this bad. I wish I could change it and I’m trying to do something now; that’s why I came here. If it’s too little, too late, I really can’t blame you.”

She was starting to babble and wondered, in the back of her mind, why this always seemed to happen when she opened up to someone. “I just hope I can somehow...find a way to...earn your forgiveness for letting that happen to you for so long. If I can’t, I get it, and if you want me to go away, I get that too. I was a terrible sister. I should have stood with you and I didn’t -”

“Snow!” Rosamund cut in. “Snow. Of course I forgive you. You were just scared; we both were. We were just children, after all, and Cecily’s an evil, horrible person!” She took Snow’s hands. “You came through when it mattered - twice, now - and that’s what’s important.”

Snow sniffed. “You really mean that?”

“Yes, I do. To be honest, I’ve had some time to think about it.” Rosamund smiled slightly. “I sort of suspected that something might be up when I heard that YOU were involved in sending Chase Johannes to try to kill me.”

And, with that, both sisters began to laugh. The laughter grew until it became overwhelming and hysterical and Snow had to hold on to the side of the bed while she caught her breath.

“I mean, really,” Rosamund continued. “I thought you knew him better than that.”

Finally, Snow got control over her laughter and managed to calm herself down enough to look up at her sister. “I love you, Rosamund.”

Rosamund squeezed her hand. “Love you too, Snow.”


	12. Chapter 11

Snow woke up the next morning curled up in a pile of blankets next to the fire with a bluebird flitting around near her face. She brushed her hair away from her forehead and sat up, wincing when she shifted her arms. The bandages had come slightly unwound and she could see that the glass cuts had begun to close up, although she still felt incredibly stiff.

“Morning.”

Snow turned to see Rosamund standing near her, holding a bucket of water and a handful of rags. “Aeson asked me to see how your arms are doing.” She knelt down next to Snow and examined the cuts. “You are really lucky. Looks like these aren’t as deep as we thought.”

As Rosamund washed and rebandaged her arms, Snow let her attention wander around the room. She hadn’t been able to do much in the way of thinking yesterday, what with everything that had happened all at once. But today, she’d woken up in a state of unease. Even though Rosamund was okay and somehow, didn’t hate Snow for not helping her, Cecily was still out there, still powerful, and (most likely) hunting for Snow.

And where was Luke?

“Snow?” Rosamund tapped on her shoulder. “Snow. You with me?”

“He should be here by now,” Snow said softly.

Rosamund didn’t need to ask for clarification. Snow had told her about Luke and what he’d done for her the day before. “Did you spend all night worrying about this?”

“No, I slept some.” Her sister finished bandaging her arms and Snow slowly got to her feet.

Gently, Rosamund said, “You know what’s probably happened, don’t you?”

“Yes.” There was no need for either of them to elaborate further.

Snow felt sick to her stomach. Cecily had hurt so many people because of her and now, Snow’s friend was in trouble, maybe even already dead. An unpleasantly familiar wave of guilt washed over her.

“Hey,” said Rosamund. Apparently, Snow wasn’t doing a very good job covering up how she was feeling. “Don’t go blaming yourself for this, Snow. He made this choice, not you.”

Snow shook her head. “He wouldn’t even be involved in this if he hadn’t wanted to help me. If anything happens to him, if anything happens to anyone in Dauntsey...that’s on me, Rosamund.” She pulled away from her sister and looked out at the empty forest road.

“And I have to do something about it,” she whispered.

She heard the creak of floorboards as Rosamund walked up behind her. “Snow...I’ve been trying to come up with a solution for this ever since I got here. But Cecily’s got the castle, she’s got the guards, and she’s got magic. So, I’m sorry, but what exactly do you intend to do?”

Snow closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose.

“What I should have done three years ago.” She turned around.

“Sister darling,” said Snow, “it’s time to take back our kingdom.”

Rosamund frowned. “Snow, did you hear what I just said…”

“Yes,” Snow said. “Castle, guards, magic. But how much good has that actually done her? You escaped, I escaped, we broke her spell. Cecily’s got nothing and certainly not a claim to the throne. Dauntsey is ours, not hers, and it’s our responsibility.” Snow tilted her head back to look directly up at Rosamund. “And I’m done being afraid of her.”

Rosamund was silent for a little while. Then she smiled. “There she is. There’s my big sister.” She clapped Snow on the shoulder. “I’m with you, Snow. Now, how are we going to do this?”

“Get the dwarves together,” Snow answered. “We’re going to need a plan.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Not too much later, Snow, Rosamund, and the seven dwarves were all squeezed around the low wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. The nine of them barely fit, but no one wanted to discuss this where it would be easy to be overheard. From where she was sandwiched in between Rosamund and Dott, Snow cleared her throat.

“Okay,” she said, wincing at how much her voice wavered. “Did Rosamund tell you all what we’ve been talking about?”

“She did,” Aeson said. “You two want your home back.” When Snow nodded, he continued, “All right. How?”

Snow furrowed her brow. “Cecily is inside the castle. She’s got magic, she’s got the nobles and guards on her side, and she possibly has a hostage. So those are our obstacles.” She looked up at Aeson. “Aeson, if you and I worked together, do you think it might be possible to find a way to block Cecily’s spells? Or at least ward them off?”

Aeson shrugged. “Probably. I don’t know how long they’d hold, but it might give us a fighting chance.”

“That won’t matter,” Yrre said. “She won’t need to use magic on us if her guards skewer us first. There’s only nine of us. How are we supposed to storm a castle?”

“The nobles might be on her side,” Rosamund chimed in, “but the people won’t be. We can rally them. They’re devoted to us. They’d fight with us. They’d fight for us!”

“She’s right.” Snow thought back to the information Luke had passed on to her. “I was hearing about it back at the castle. I don’t think Cecily knows but they were already beginning to suspect that she had something to do with what happened to you, Rosamund. Maybe we can drop some hints here and there, mention that the princesses are alive and coming home, get the people talking - quietly.”

Lajjit raised his hand. “This is all good,” he said, keeping his eyes down on the table, “but are two princesses, seven dwarves, and a lot of peasants really going to be able to take down a castle full of armed guards and a witch?”

“Well, where else would we be able to get help?” Rosamund asked. “It’s not like our foreign relationships are in the best state.”

“What about Archmouth?” said Snow.

Rosamund twisted about in her chair to face Snow. “What about it? If Crasmere’s still holding grudges from the war, why wouldn’t Archmouth?”

“Luke didn’t,” Snow countered. “And even if King Tobias did, Luke is his son. Somehow, I don’t think he’d be too happy to find out that Cecily is holding him prisoner…or worse.”

Suddenly, Rosamund’s eyes brightened. “Snow, you’re brilliant!” She quickly turned to the blond-bearded dwarf. “Fane, you’re the fastest. Can you get to Archmouth for us?”

Fane extricated himself from his chair and rose to his full height. “What do you want me to say?”

“Get an audience with King Tobias,” Rosamund instructed, “and tell him that his son, Luke, has been kidnapped by Cecily of Dauntsey and needs help.”

“What if he questions me?”

“Find a way to make him believe you. I’m sorry that I don’t have anything better than that.”

Fane scoffed. “Don’t worry.”

Just as he was about to leave, Snow called after him. “Oh, and be sure to tell him we sent you and we’re the ones asking for his help. We really don’t want the war starting up again when this is all over.”

“Right,” said Rosamund. “Tell him that you’re coming on behalf of Princess Snow White and Princess Rosamund and this is their message.”

The blond dwarf listened, nodded, and ran off into the forest.

“Okay,” said Aeson. “It’ll be at least tomorrow by the time he gets to Archmouth and Archmouth can gather its forces and get here, so we might as well use that time to prepare.”

As he began instructing the remaining dwarves, Snow glanced over at her sister. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. “I hope Luke can last that long.”

“He will. I’m sure of it. If he’s managed to make it this far, he can make it to tomorrow.” Rosamund took Snow’s hand. “Snow, we’re going to get him. And he’s going to be all right. Okay?”

Snow swallowed a lump in her throat. “Okay.” Looking around the room, she saw that five of the dwarves were headed outside and Aeson was walking over to his shelves of supplies. “I should probably go see if Aeson and I can conjure up something that vaguely resembles magic blocking.”

“Right.” Rosamund rose from her seat and slid the little wooden stool under the table. “I’m going to go and keep an eye on them. I won’t let anyone see me, don’t worry.”

Just before she left the dwarves’ cottage, Rosamund looked back at Snow over her shoulder. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Snow repeated. And she closed her eyes.


	13. Chapter 12

The ride to Dauntsey the next day was a miserable one. The sun was hot and beat down mercilessly on the eight travelers. From atop the horse, which she was riding with Rosamund, Snow quietly wished she’d been able to get ahold of a less heavy outfit. The dress she was wearing wasn’t going to be anything but impractical today but, unfortunately, no one had managed to prepare better.

As they neared the city, Snow started shaking so badly that she had to hand the reins to Rosamund so the horse would keep walking straight.

“You all right?” Rosamund whispered the question into her sister’s ear.

Snow nodded. “I will be.” To calm her nerves, she looked down at the leather strap around her wrist. She and Aeson had successfully enchanted these with a temporary magic blocker. Both princesses and all the dwarves were wearing one. Despite knowing they wouldn’t hold out forever, Snow felt just a little better knowing that Cecily would have a harder time hurting any of them than she realized.

The little train made its way into the center of Dauntsey, with the dwarves marching around the horse. People began to emerge from the little houses lining the street. There were gasps from all around and Snow heard snippets of dialogue: “The princesses!” “They’re alive!” “The rumors were true!”

“Stop the horse,” Snow said to Rosamund. “I need to talk to them.”

Her sister nodded and pulled on the reins, bringing them to a stop right in the middle of the town square. The people swarmed around them, clamoring for attention. Snow sat up straight on the horse and cleared her throat.

“People of Dauntsey,” she said. Her insides were practically doing backflips but even to herself, she sounded loud and clear.

The people quieted, all eyes on Snow.

“People of Dauntsey,” Snow repeated. “We have returned. My sister is alive.”

A cheer began to ring around the crowd but Snow held up her hand for quiet. “But she almost wasn’t.” She looked around herself, making eye contact with everyone she could. “You all have a right to know what’s really been going on, so here it is. Three months ago, Queen Cecily, our stepmother, tried to have Princess Rosamund killed.”

The response was much quieter this time. There were some gasps, but most people just looked grimly on. Many nodded briskly, in an as we suspected sort of way. The rumors had spread a long way.

“And she almost succeeded,” Snow continued. “If it hadn’t been for the bravery and loyalty of Chase Johannes, neither of us would be here right now.” Somehow, the more she talked, the more steady she felt. “And we’re not the only ones Cecily has hurt, are we?”

The crowd started working itself up. People started nodding and some cast furious looks toward the castle. 

“I say enough is enough.” Snow called over the noise. “Cecily has spent three years acting as if she were queen in her own right. Three years to abuse the power of the throne and that’s three years too many. I am Snow White, the rightful heir to the throne of Dauntsey, and I say that Cecily will never get a chance to hurt anyone again!”

And, with that, Dauntsey was instantly on her side. There were shouts of agreement, cries of “Down with the false queen!”, and sounds of people grabbing whatever they might be able to use as a weapon. Rosamund started the horse again and the people marched with them. As they neared the castle, the train of followers only grew.

“Well done, Snow!” said Rosamund as she steered the horse up toward the gates. 

“I just hope it was worth it,” Snow said. “And that I’m not just leading them to their deaths.”

“We’ll be fine. We just need to last until Archmouth gets here.”

'If Archmouth gets here', Snow thought, but she didn’t say anything. She was leading her people into a fight against a very angry spellcaster. This was the worst time ever to lower morale.

The horse stopped outside the gate, whinnying and tossing its head. Snow patted its neck. 

“I know, I know, you want to go home,” she whispered. “I do too.”

A hand tugged on her dress hem and she looked down to see Aeson standing beside her. “How’s your bracelet holding up?” he asked.

Snow looked down at her wrist. “All right, for now.” And then a terrible thought occurred to her, one that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t considered earlier. “But what about everyone else? We’ve only got eight bracelets.”

Aeson frowned. “We could extend it around everyone. It’d be sort of like a bubble. But it won’t hold as long, then.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” said Snow. “We can’t send these people in with no protection whatsoever. How do we do this?”

He smiled and beckoned for her to get down off the horse. She did so and Aeson held his leather strap to hers, whispering words Snow couldn’t make out under his breath. The two bits of leather began to glow and, out of the corner of her eye, Snow saw that everyone else’s was doing the same.

“That should do it,” Aeson said, releasing Snow’s wrist.

“I hope so,” said Rosamund. She was looking straight up at the tower room. Snow followed her gaze and gulped. Even from several stories down, she could still make out Cecily’s green eyes.

“Here we go,” she whispered. 

Almost too quickly, the gates swung open. The crowd - now more of a mob - flooded to the entrance only to be blocked by armored guards. The fighting began in earnest, with swords ringing against pitchforks and shovels and whatever else the townspeople had been able to get their hands on. Rosamund dug her heels into the horse's sides and rode out into the fray, wielding an oaken quarterstaff as formidably as any blade. Her lessons with Chase Johannes in her youth were paying off, far more than anyone could have anticipated.

Snow longed to go after her but she knew the reality of the situation. She was unarmed and not much of a fighter and would only get in the way if she tried to help. All she could do was stand back, wait, and try not to die.

Steel whistled over her head. Snow ducked and moved back, weaving through the crowd. She couldn’t stay put. Guards were targeting her and she had no choice but to keep moving. 

She felt a hand close around her forearm. Wheeling around, she slammed her shoe into the side of the guard’s knee, where his armor didn’t protect him. His leg buckled and she let him fall to the ground, using gravity to pull her arm free. Quickly, Snow slid behind one of the buildings and flattened herself against the wall out of sight. 

She could still see the tower from her new position and kept her eyes fixed on Cecily. Her stepmother raised her hands over her head. Snow just barely made out the red glow before Cecily sent whatever spell it was hurtling towards the fighting below. 

Snow instinctively covered her head, even though she knew that unless the blocking spell held, this would do no good. The red beam flew right at the chaos at the gate…

And was sent right back toward the tower.

Cecily barely had time to move away before her own spell sliced off the side of the window, sending a rain of cockroaches falling down on top of everyone. Snow heard them splatter on the eaves above her head, but her relief overcame her horror.

“It worked!” she yelled, despite being sure that no one could hear her. “The spell worked!”

A villager was thrown right at her feet, blood dripping down his nose from a cut above his eyebrow. A guard jumped out after him and Snow gathered her skirts and ran again.

Unfortunately, this moment of success was short-lived. Cecily sent another spell down, this one landing just to the side of the fighting. From where her spell had hit, the rocks began to bind themselves together, forming creatures that towered over everyone else. They joined the fighting themselves, landing terrible blows on the unprepared villagers. 

Snow felt more helpless than ever. People were hurt, maybe dying, and she couldn’t do anything but run away from danger.

Then she saw Rosamund riding right up to the creatures, staff held high over her head.

Snow’s breath caught in her throat.

One of the creatures swung a massive fist at Rosamund, who barely managed to avoid it. The horse fought against her, desperate to ride away. Rosamund gritted her teeth and kept pace with the rock creatures but Snow could tell she wasn’t going to last too long.

She looked around wildly. There! Off to the left was the water main for Dauntsey, a giant river that cut around the kingdom towards the forest. Snow ran toward the river. Seeing Aeson ahead of her, she yelled to him, “Aeson! The water!”

He understood. He faced the river and sent rays of magic from his fingers. The magic lifted the water from the river up in an enormous wave and then slammed it down on top of the creatures. 

The dirt that was holding them together turned to mud. The creatures screamed and continued to attack but they slowly began to crumble. Guards and villagers alike turned and fled as the creatures fell to dust.

“Well done, Snow!” Aeson yelled.

Snow didn’t have time to answer. All too quickly, the fighting began again and Cecily sent spell after spell down on them, beating against the magical protection. Nothing took effect but Snow felt the spell buckle and, at one point, was almost knocked to the ground as Cecily tried harder and harder to break through.

Before she could get back up, she felt an arm wrap around her waist. She shrieked as she was lifted up into the air by someone much stronger than she was. She couldn’t reach any part of him that wasn’t protected by his armor and her arms were pinned at her sides. She struggled, but the guard who’d grabbed her was holding her too tightly for her to escape. 

Then she felt him stumble. Snow twisted in his grip, trying to see what was happening.

Rosamund, dirty and covered in sweat and yet still moving, loomed over the guard from the horse’s back. She raised her quarterstaff over her head and brought it down hard on the guard’s helmet.

The staff split in two but the guard toppled to the ground, out cold. Snow, who had been dragged down with him, quickly pried herself free of his arms.

“You okay, Snow?!” Rosamund shouted.

Rather than waste breath, Snow nodded and then started to work her way back towards the relative safety of the buildings.

Before she could make it, she felt the leather strap start to dig into her wrist. Snow grabbed at it and saw, to her horror, that the glow was starting to fade. She looked back at Rosamund, who held up her wrist to show that the same thing was happening to her.

It was the blocking spell. It had to be. It was giving out.

No sooner had this dawned on Snow then the glow spluttered and died altogether.

Instantly, Cecily’s spells began pounding down on them again. The battle began to lose momentum as the rioters sought shelter from the barrage of magic. Snow quickly put a building between herself and her stepmother but she knew this shelter wouldn’t last her long. 

The sheer number of spells had to be taking a toll on Cecily, as they began to fall further and further off target, but the volley never slowed. The people dispersed as quickly as they’d gathered. As far as Snow could tell, they’d been extraordinarily lucky and no one had been hit by anything. That said, there was also no one in any position to mount another attack. They were losing.

Then a horn sounded from just outside of Dauntsey. 

Snow craned her neck, trying to see without exposing herself.

A great force was riding towards them. There must have been hundreds of them, all on horseback, all armed. Riding near the front was a man with salt-and-pepper hair, bedecked in golden armor, his horse dressed in magnificent deep blue velvet. Snow’s eyes were drawn to the horse next to him, on which sat a blond-bearded dwarf.

“It’s Archmouth!” Snow screamed.

And, just like that, the battle turned. The Archmouth soldiers galloped into Dauntsey, seemingly oblivious to the spells Cecily now launched at them. They must have had some form of magical protection for themselves because her magic just bounced off their armor as they charged at the castle.

“Snow!” Rosamund, still astride the horse, who somehow hadn’t died from exhaustion, was right next to Snow and held out a hand for her. “Archmouth is drawing Cecily’s fire! We can get into the castle now!”

Snow accepted her sister’s hand and let Rosamund pull her up onto the horse. Together, they left the shelter of the buildings and raced to the open gates. By the time Cecily noticed the girls, it was too late. They had passed the gates and run into the castle, leaving the horse behind. 

Snow and Rosamund climbed the steps to the tower room as fast as they could. It wasn’t easy as, true to her prediction, Snow’s dress did nothing but slow her down. Nonetheless, they made it to the tower room before Cecily had a chance to flee anywhere else. Side by side, they stood in the door of the tower room, facing down their stepmother.

Cecily looked worse than Snow had ever seen her. Her dark hair was a tangled mess on top of her head. She panted from her exertion, her lips dry and cracked as though from fever. Her dress sleeves were singed from all the spells she’d been trying to cast but her bloodshot eyes, though hooded, were clearly visable and fixed on Snow.

“Well, this is an interesting change of pace, Snow White,” she hissed, high pitched and rasping. “I wouldn’t have expected you to drag yourself out of your hole this soon.” Then she turned on Rosamund. “And you. Couldn’t just stay dead, could you.”

“I live to disappoint.” Rosamund clenched her fist.

“I hope you two are pleased with yourselves.” Cecily gestured toward the window with one of her burned sleeves. “Because of you, we may shortly find ourselves fighting the war all over again.”

“Oh, you can not blame this on us,” said Rosamund.

“Archmouth didn’t come because of us,” said Snow. “Where is he, Cecily?”

“Who?” Cecily smirked. “Oh, you mean your lover?” She waved her hand over her mirror. “See for yourself, Snow White.”

A figure appeared in the glass, beaten and bloody. He lifted his head and Snow was unable to stifle a gasp as she looked into the tired eyes of Luke. Immediately, he straightened up, pressing his hands against the inside of the mirror, mouthing words that none of them could hear.

“Luke!” Snow cried in spite of herself. It took everything she had not to run at the mirror.

Something slammed into her side, knocking her to the floor. It took her a moment to realize that Rosamund had tackled her just as a sudden spell from Cecily crashed into the wall right where she’d been standing. 

“Split up,” Rosamund said quickly as Cecily readied another spell. “She can’t focus on both of us at once.”

The princesses rushed in opposite directions, spiraling around the room. Whenever Cecily directed a spell at one of them, the other wasted no time drawing her attention away. Snow wasn’t entirely sure what their plan was, other than trying to deplete what remained Cecily’s magic but she didn’t stop to think about it. There was no time.

A pure white beam that Snow didn’t recognize shattered the table in front of her. She started back and Rosamund gave her the distraction she needed by knocking over one of Cecily’s spell bottles. As Cecily whirled around to face Rosamund, Snow scanned the shelves with her eyes. There had to be something they could use here…

“Enough!” Cecily howled and pointed at Rosamund. 

Out of nowhere, Rosamund began to gasp and claw at her throat. Her eyes went wide and little choked noises slide from her lips. Cecily raised her hand and some invisible forced dragged Rosamund up into the air even as she continued grabbing at something near her neck that no one could see.

Snow screamed her little sister’s name and made to move toward her. Without so much as looking at her, Cecily flicked her fingers in Snow’s direction. The magic slammed into Snow’s chest and threw her across the room, where she landed hard against the leg of the table.

She struggled to sit up, realizing that the impact had reopened her glass wounds. Blinking tears of pain from her eyes, she pulled herself to her feet, trying with everything she had not to trip on her skirt again. As she rose, her eyes landed on the top shelf, on a spell she recognized. Snow’s fingers closed around the red bottle and she lunged at her stepmother. 

“Leave her alone!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. 

Now Cecily glared directly at her and, as she did so, Snow uncapped the bottle and threw the contents right in Cecily’s face.

Cecily froze. She lowered her hands and Rosamund fell to the ground, coughing horribly.

Snow said nothing. She just stared Cecily down.

And slowly, Cecily began to change. Her eyes became black and beady. Her fingernails shot out of her hands and thickened and curved. Her hair receded into her head and her ears grew and slip further up. As Snow and Rosamund watched, Cecily shrank down until nothing was left but a pile of dark robes and a little black mouse, dashing out of one sleeve and across the floor.

Before the mouse could make it very far, Rosamund caught it by the scruff of the neck and lifted it up. “I don’t think so, Stepmother,” she wheezed, dropping the mouse into a large empty bottle. Its claws scraped along the bottle walls but could find no grip. Cecily was well and truly trapped.

“Did…” Rosamund had to stop and cough for a moment before continuing. “Did you know what that spell would do?”

Snow looked at the mouse in the bottle. “Cecily really should not have spent all that time talking to me about magic.”

Rosamund didn’t respond. She just rose to stand upright and wrapped her arms around Snow’s shoulders.

Snow closed her eyes and hugged her sister back.


	14. Chapter 13

Eventually, the sisters released each other and looked around the room. The mouse that had been their stepmother was still scampering about the inside of the bottle. There was spilled magic all over the floor and, from outside, the sounds of fighting were beginning to diminish.

“King Tobias will probably be up here soon,” Rosamund said, still hoarse. 

“We should get Luke out of there before he arrives, then.” Snow hurried over to the mirror, pressing her hand against the glass.

“Well, there’s certainly a lot of stuff here.” Rosamund looked at the magic shelves. “What am I looking for?”

“The antidotes all have lead stoppers, but I’m not sure which spell Cecily used, so…”

“Wait.” Rosamund twisted her head around. “There’s more than one spell for trapping someone in a mirror?”

“Obviously.”

“Right. Of course there is.” Rosamund rolled her eyes. “So how do we figure this out?”

Inside the mirror, Luke began knocking on the glass. Snow looked back at him and he pointed to himself.

She blinked in confusion but then it dawned on her what he meant. “You. You know what spell she used?” Snow gestured at him and tilted her head to the side, doing her best to convey her meaning without words.

Luke nodded urgently.

“Does he know magic?” Rosamund asked.

“He doesn’t need to. I only need a couple details.” Snow tapped on the glass. “Luke. The spell Cecily used to do this to you. She would have poured it over you. Was it hot or cold?” She attempted to mime what she was saying.

He mimed back, repeating the same movements as her.

“Cold? It was cold?”

Nod.

Snow quickly conveyed instructions to her sister, not looking away from the mirror. “Okay, that means she used Glass Prism. The antidote’s in a little brown bottle. Bottom shelf. Second from the right, I think. Hurry!”

Almost immediately, Rosamund was pressing a spell into her hand. “This one?”

“Yes. Stand back.”

“No kidding,” muttered Rosamund, glancing at the mouse before moving back to the door. Snow tore through the lead with her teeth, not stopping to worry about what the result might be. Here we go, she thought and she doused the mirror with the contents of the antidote.

There was a bright golden flash that completely blinded the girls for a moment and then suddenly Luke fell forward out of the mirror. Snow caught him before he could hit the floor and held him while he gasped for air.

“Snow,” he whispered finally.

“Luke!” A smile found its way onto her face. “You’re okay!”

His arms found their way up to her shoulders, holding her as closely as she was holding him. “You did it, Snow. You did it.”

“Hey,” said Rosamund, “I’m sorry to break this up but I think we’re going to have company soon.” Sure enough, footsteps could already be heard heading up the tower stairs.

With Snow supporting him, Luke struggled to his feet. “Thank you,” he said. “You know, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced properly. Prince Luke, of Archmouth.” 

Rosamund nodded her head. “Princess Rosamund, of Dauntsey.” She smirked. “So you’re the one Snow won’t stop talking about.”

Before Snow could respond to that, King Tobias appeared in the doorway. Despite being filthy from the battle, he still managed to be a very imposing man. His great height probably had a lot to do with that; Luke’s smaller size must have come from his mother. The Archmouth king was glaring when he entered the room but his scowl turned to relief when he saw Luke.

Luke stared. “Father?”

“Luke.” King Tobias smiled. “You’re all right!”

“I am now,” said Luke. “The princesses got me out.”

“Ah,” said the king. “So these are the Dauntsey princesses, then?” He redirected his attention to Snow and Rosamund. “I haven’t had the pleasure.” 

“We’re glad you got our message,” Snow said, head held high.

“Yes, so am I.” King Tobias walked over to Luke’s side, supporting his son himself. “Speaking of which, where is the regent? Where is the witch who did this to my son?”

No one said anything, but Rosamund pointed at the bottle on the table. The king furrowed his brow. “The mouse?”

“That’s my fault,” Snow spoke up. “She was hurting people. I did what I had to do to stop her.”

After a moment, King Tobias nodded. “Very resourceful.”

“We can take care of her,” said Snow. “She won’t be able to turn back without an antidote and I don’t think she’s got magic anymore because she hasn’t used any on us. We can put her somewhere where she won’t be able to do anything to anyone. No one’s dead, I hope?”

“No,” the king confirmed. “There are some suffering from magical afflictions, but I’d hope it’s curable.”

“Good. Send them up to me and I’ll see if I can straighten them out.”

“I’ll take Cecily,” said Rosamund. “I’ll find her a cage. We can put her in the dungeon for now.” She picked up the bottle, ignoring the rapid movements of the mouse, throwing a piece of fabric over the top just in case.

“All right. Direct anyone with magic troubles that you see up here. And send me any loyal soldiers we still have. And Aeson; I’m going to need his help. We’re going to cure anyone who’s under a spell,” - Snow looked around the room - “and then we’re going to destroy every bit of magic in this room.”

Cecily could apparently still understand English in her new form because she went crazy from inside the bottle, scratching and squealing and trying harder than ever to get out.

“You were right, Cecily,” said Snow. “Magic is only as evil as the person using it.” She knelt down so that her face was even with the bottle. “So I’m going to make sure that this magic can’t ever fall into evil hands again.”

The mouse continued to scrape and scramble around the inside of the bottle but everyone else in the room smiled. King Tobias gave Snow a nod. “It’s good to see that Dauntsey’s next queen shows the promise of being a proper leader.” He looked at his son. “I trust we shall be able to discuss our country’s relations soon, Snow White?”

Snow, who had not missed the king had to be referring to, opted to ignore it. “Let me get through a coronation first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The cleanup of Dauntsey took several weeks. People needed healing, buildings needed to be repaired, and a lot of Cecily’s messes needed to be straightened out. Finally, Dauntsey was back on its feet and ready to crown its new queen.

Snow stood just inside checking her simple blue-and-yellow dress and the black braid she’d wound around her head in a full-length mirror. She’d chosen not to dress too elaborately for her coronation. Her father had told her early on in her life that she would never get a second chance to make a first impression and she wanted to make it clear from the start what kind of queen she intended to be.

“Snow?” Rosamund peeked around the door. “It’s time.”

She turned to look at her sister. Although allegedly under duress, Rosamund had agreed to wear a skirt today, though she’d refused to wear anything pink. Her blonde hair was pulled back and she was smiling.

“Give me just a minute, okay?” Snow said. “I’ll be right out.”

Rosamund nodded and ducked back around the door.

Snow’s gaze fell on the wall next to her, on the recently rediscovered portrait of her mother, which was hanging beside another of her father. She wondered what they’d say to her if they were here now and could watch her become queen. She wondered what she’d say to them.

Slowly, she reached up and placed a hand on the edge of each picture frame.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Then she carefully made her way outside to join her sister.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The coronation passed in a sort of a blur. Snow stood in front of the old clergyman repeating back everything he said. It all felt very surreal. It wasn’t until she knelt down so he could place the crown on her head that the awe of it truly became real to her. She was a queen.

As custom demanded, Snow faced the crowd gathered around her. She saw the dwarves standing all together, with smiles on all their faces, even Yrre’s. She saw Chase Johannes, who had recently been appointed the new Captain of the Guard as a reward for his unwavering loyalty. She saw Luke standing next to his father and the king looking at her with approval. And she saw Rosamund, resplendent in her red dress, with a brighter smile than Snow had seen on her in a very, very long time.

And a call rang out from the people. “Long live Snow White, queen of Dauntsey!”


	15. Epilogue

A month after Snow’s crowning, life had returned to a relative state of normal in Dauntsey. Upon becoming queen, Snow truly regained her footing and, under her rule, the kingdom was quickly moving toward a state of prosperity it had not seen in two generations. Working alongside Rosamund, who’d placed herself in charge of the armies, Snow managed to broker a more solid alliance with Archmouth and ease some of the tension with Crasmere. Now, finally, the scars left by the long war and the horrible aftermath could begin to heal.

Snow was reminded of her own scars as she pushed open the door to the terrace one summer morning. While the wounds from her leap through the library window had closed, the damage to her muscles was still fresh enough to cause her to wince as she pressed against the heavy oak.

Despite this, when she made her way out into the sunlight, she felt nothing but calm. She stood by the stone wall overlooking her kingdom and closed her eyes, letting the warmth wash over her.

Immediately her thoughts began to wander. Eventually, they settled on Luke.

Luke. It had been so long since she’d seen him. First, his father had taken him back to Archmouth to officially straighten out the issue of his kidnapping and then she’d been so busy clearing up from Cecily’s reign that there’d hardly been time to think of anything else. He’d constantly been on her mind, however, to the point where Rosamund finally sat her down and berated Snow for her obsession. 

“You’re not exactly being subtle, Snow,” she had said. “If there’s something you want to tell Luke, just tell him. It’s not like some of us haven’t seen it already.”

Snow had been unable to get her sister to say what exactly she was to referring but the truth was she didn’t need to. Pieces had started to fall into place in her head almost from the moment that they overcame Cecily. The wonderful conversation they’d had on her birthday, the way she’d clung to him when Rosamund was gone, how desperate she’d been to help him after Cecily captured him… 

At the time, she’d thought it was nothing more than her being worried about one of the only people she could call a friend. Now...now, she wasn’t so sure what it was.

All she could think was that she needed to tell Luke...something. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. Snow shook her head. 'All right. Go up to him, say you need to talk, and then just start babbling endlessly again. That’ll go over great!'

Behind her, the door creaked open and she could hear footsteps on the stone floor.

“Maggie?” she asked, turning around. “I thought my council meeting wasn’t until noon…”

She trailed off. It wasn’t Maggie. It was Luke. His boots and red cape were coated with dust and his usually neat hair was windswept. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he said, grinning and dipping his head in a slight bow. “Johannes said you should be up here.”

“Oh! Hi!” Snow’s face went hot. “You’re back.”

“Couldn’t stay away,” he responded, walking over to the stone wall and taking a seat.

Snow sat down next to him, straightening and re-straightening her skirt. “How are things at Archmouth?” she asked.

Luke shrugged. “In order. Father and Matthew have everything taken care of.” He drummed his fingers against the wall. 

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” he said suddenly.

“Yes, of course. My birthday. All that barely-edible meat. And my awful, awful dress.”

He laughed at that. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Are we remembering the same dress? I could barely walk in that thing.”

“All right, the dress was pretty bad,” he conceded. “You made it work, though.”

Snow was about to remind him that she had spilled what remained of her drink on him while in that dress but then she caught a glimpse of his face and the quip died in her throat. 

“Thank you…” she managed. Her breath was heavy in her lungs. She could hear Rosamund’s voice in the back of her mind, pushing her to say something but her vocal cords had decided to stop working.

Luke shifted position on the wall, turning to look her in the eyes. She felt a catch in the back of her throat. 

“Snow…” he said, a slight rasp in his tone. “Snow, there’s...there’s something I wanted to say to you. Something I’ve wanted to say for awhile.”

As if from a great distance, Snow felt herself nod. 

“Me too.” She could barely whisper. “I’ve just been thinking…”

“Yes.” Luke nudged away a stray stone with the toe of his boot. “And it was never the right time before.”

“Of course not. Not with everything that was going on.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“But now…”

“Now…”

And suddenly, something clicked in Snow’s mind. “Wait a minute,” she said. “We’re both trying to say the exact same thing, aren’t we?”

Luke stared for a moment, eyes blinking, mouth open before being overtaken by a shy smile. “Yes. Yes, I think we are.”

Both of them began to laugh, shaking their heads at their own silliness. “Well, this is off to a wonderful start,” said Luke.

“Hey,” Snow replied, “at least we can be lost on the same page. That’s something, right?”

“True,” he conceded. “Very true.”

They were silent then, seemingly unable to do anything more than stare into each other’s eyes.

“I’d like to kiss you now,” Luke said suddenly. “If that’s all right.”

Snow could hear her blood rushing to her head. “Yes. That’s all right,” she said.

Luke put one of his hands on her shoulder, moving closer to her. Then he leaned in and his lips met hers.

Snow had never been kissed before, so she had nothing to which she could compare this but she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more alive. Luke’s free hand moved to run through her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her knee brushed up against his leg as they held each other closer still. There was a warmth stirring inside her, filling her entire being. She let her eyes close, succumbing to the overwhelming joy sweeping over her.

She quickly lost track of time, so she wasn’t sure how long it had been when the kiss eventually came to an end. Snow lifted her head, looking up at Luke. Neither of them had let go of the other yet.

“Well, how was that?” said Luke, cracking a smile. “Feel like Happily Ever After?”

Snow laughed again. “I don’t know if I can say Happily Ever After,” she said. “After all, I’m only seventeen. How about Happy For Now?”

He smiled. “Happy For Now sounds perfect to me.”

Snow rested her head on his shoulder, looking out over her beautiful kingdom, across the houses and streets to the forest and the distant sea. 

They were all safe now. Safe, as they should be.

“Me too,” she said.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> And it's all up. Thank you to anyone who was interested enough to give this story a go. It means a lot to me.
> 
> I'm wondering about possibly trying for a sequel. I have a few ideas, but nothing I've actually written down. Does anyone have an opinion about that?
> 
> Thank you again and have a most wonderful day.
> 
> \- InkHeartAngel


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